Forbidden Treasure
by Venenosum
Summary: "He didn't miss how his flattery changed Jasmine's posture, how her back arched. After watching her play these games with countless others, he knew what to expect. But Jafar wasn't her usual victim – spoiled, young men were. They probably wouldn't even know what to do with her if she actually threw herself upon them. He did." Jafar x Jasmine
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This takes place around the beginning of the animated film, just before one of Jasmine's suitors storms out because Rajah attacked him. Picture Jafar as the live-action Marwan Kenzari version aka hot AF. Seriously, I would sit on his face.

Reviews are always appreciated.

xxxxxxx

The quill scratched upon vellum. Each letter curled, a miniature masterpiece, as Jafar wrote. He paused. In his almost meditative state, he tapped his fingers atop his desk. Several phrases ran through his mind before he selected the best.

His newest sentence was just begun when he heard a loud knock at his door. He jolted out of his trance and frowned at the drop of ink that marred his otherwise pristine writing. But his voice betrayed no annoyance as he asked, "Who goes there?"

"Oh, good, you're here."

The voice and infuriating attitude were unmistakable. Jasmine flung open the door and slammed it behind her. Exhaling slowly, Jafar screwed the top back onto the inkwell and placed his quill down.

Jasmine sighed heavily, forcing him to give her attention.

"How may I serve you, Princess?" He wanted to blow upon the parchment to dry the ink, before Jasmine's impending tantrum blurred his words further. Instead, he gently waved a hand over it.

"Father tells me that another suitor is coming today." One of her hands was on her hip, which was jutted out in annoyance. "Tell him that I don't want to see him."

"Surely you realize that I can say nothing to sway your father in this matter. The law requires that you marry."

She groaned and rolled her eyes. For a split second, Jafar thought that she may turn and leave. She, however, had other plans. Crossing her arms angrily, she stomped towards him. "As your Princess, I order you."

"Unfortunately for you, Jasmine, I take orders from the Sultan."

She narrowed her eyes at his casual use of her name, then her lips pressed together in aggravation. It was sadistically entertaining to watch her fume. Here, where her father didn't bend to her every whim, she could only glare. Finally, Jasmine rolled her eyes again and looked away; her attention fell to the parchment.

"What's this?" She snatched it before Jafar could react and began reading it. "A letter to Sultan Al'Mufti?"

"Part of my duty in keeping peace in Agrabah is maintaining civil relationships with the neighboring kingdoms. Explaining why you reject your suitors requires tact."

" _Prince Abdul, an heir who will certainly carry your traditions into his rule, merits a bride with the want to make your customs her own, a woman intent on adhering to your religious ways."_ Jasmine stopped reading to send Jafar a disgusted glare. "Oh, it's _my_ fault?"

"You flung him into the fountain." Jafar's lips twitched in momentary amusement. "You collapsed in a fit of hysteria when he slipped and cracked his head against the marble."

"He deserved it." Jasmine didn't bother hiding her grin. She looked back at the scroll and read, " _Princess Jasmine, fiercely dedicated to the ways of Agrabah, lacks the patience to acquaint herself with a different style of living._ " She scoffed, but continued, _"Yet it's her mettle and pride that have made her such an alluring option for many."_

Having Jasmine read his praise of her was something he never intended, especially in this context. Jafar leaned back in his chair, watching her carefully. He didn't miss how his flattery changed her posture, how her back arched. After watching her play these games with countless others, he knew what to expect next.

 _"She desires_ -"Jasmine's large, dark eyes met his, gazing at him through heavy lashes. "What were you going to say?"

"I'm afraid my response eludes me."

"The ink is still wet." Mischief twitched at the corners of her mouth. She placed the parchment to the side and leaned against his desk. Her weight rested against one of her arms, causing her breasts to press together. With her other hand, she toyed with the waistline of her harem pants, dragging her nail just beneath the fabric. "What do I desire?"

Coy as her pose was, Jafar wasn't her usual victim – spoiled, young men were. They probably wouldn't even know what to do with her if she actually did throw herself upon them.

He did. His eyes roved across her caramel skin, the supple flesh that rose and fell with her breathing, up to her neck, the delicate curve of her jaw, her full lips, and finally her large, dark eyes. His stare bore into her, and he was impressed that she didn't back down.

Slowly, he leaned forward, lifting himself off of his chair just enough to place one hand on the desk next to hers, close enough that their fingers touched. He moved closer still and cupped his other hand on the side of her face. His thumb traced just under her bottom lip and, to his satisfaction, she gasped.

There was just one more thing to do. He brought his face on the other side of hers, close enough that his beard traced along her cheek as he moved towards her ear. His warm breath raised the soft hairs that didn't fit into her ponytail as he whispered, "To be a nuisance."

Pleased with himself, Jafar pulled back slowly, savoring the warm, spiced scent of her skin: hibiscus and rose water. The beginning of a triumphant smile was on his lips, but his eyebrows knit together when he saw her expression.

He expected her to look overwhelmed, embarrassed, or annoyed even at his sarcasm. Instead, her eyes were heavy-lidded with a more carnal emotion. She placed her hand over his and dragged it across her cheek until his index finger rested on her lips. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled his hand further until the pad of his finger pulled down her lower lip. The tip of her tongue crept forward and curled under his finger. With deliberate movements, and light pressure from her teeth, she took his finger into her mouth. Her tongue twirled around it and she sucked gently, moaning softly.

If the blood had drained any faster from his head, Jafar may have collapsed. As it was, he jumped back, sitting heavily back onto his chair. His hands folded onto his lap, hiding the beginning of his erection. "You should take your leave."

"Tell me what you were going to write, and I'll go." Jasmine's tone was sweet and deceptively innocent. She approached his chair, swaying her hips more than necessary. Her hands rested on his thighs and she leaned forward.

He inhaled slowly, trying to buy himself time for a retort, willing himself to think of anything besides where he'd rather feel her tongue. It was difficult, especially with his clouded mind and heart pounding in his chest. He was, in a word, dumbstruck.

The dull pulse between his legs increased until his hardening cock reached his palms through his robe. He cleared his throat and spoke slowly, keeping his tone low and his tempo steady. "She desires to be challenged, while Prince Abdul desires to be followed."

"Who knew you could be so charming?" She raised a hand to his cheek, and traced the back of her fingers along his beard. To really drive her victory home, she glanced pointedly at his lap. "What do _you_ desire, Jafar?"

Speechless, he mentally berated himself for falling into her trap. He, the Royal Vizier of Agrabah, had overestimated himself. Now, if Jasmine would've simply left, his pride would have been bruised and he would've been in a moderate amount of pain; but he would've found a way to redeem himself.

Instead, she tilted her head to the side and slowly began dragging her hand up his thigh. "I never realized how incredibly handsome you are."

A poor calculation on her part. He may have fallen for her feminine wiles, but he was not like the boys she was used to manipulating.

His response was swift and primal. Before either could blink, he wrapped an arm around her and sprang forward. He dropped her on the edge of his desk, spread open her knees with his legs, and roughly pulled her body into his. She cried out, startled, when their bodies met; to both of their surprise, her legs wrapped around his hips.

"Jafar." Her hips rocked against him, but she kept her torso as far away as his arm allowed. Never before had he seen so many expressions flash across someone's face in such a short amount of time.

"Unable to finish what you started, Jasmine?" His tone was deathly, almost a growl. He ground his hips into hers, the fabric of his clothing nearly chafing his shaft. When she was unable to respond, he attacked her with a fierce kiss. Her mouth opened almost immediately to his. Instead of letting her tongue enter his mouth, he bit her lip, chastising her for her eagerness.

Whimpering in response, Jasmine pressed her torso against his, tight enough that he could feel her heart thumping against his ribs. At some point, she had tossed his turban aside. Now, her arms were around his neck and, when he broke their kiss, she buried her face in his shoulder.

With her breath warm on his neck, he lifted her by the waist just enough for him to pull her pants down past her hips. Maneuvering his hand between them, he ran his fingers along her nether lips. She moaned and kissed his neck between gasps.

His fingers traced along her seam until liquid arousal began to leak from her. He inserted his index and middle fingers between her lips, slowly, but purposefully.

"Jafar." She mewled and clung to his robes. Her hips bucked into his hand.

Her whispered voice burned through his ear. He curled his digits towards her core and held the heel of his palm against her clit. Moments later, he felt her walls tremble around his fingers as she came.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, struggling somewhat with how her tightly she held him. Spidery strands of lubrication clung between them. Mostly to himself, he said, "It appears that I was wrong about what you desire."

Jasmine peered up from his collarbone and followed his line of sight. Her cheeks flushed and she buried her face in his chest once again, unable to make eye contact. "That's not funny."

"A mere observation, Princess." He released her momentarily and slid his hand down her leg, pushing off her silky pants. When her legs were freed, he kept a few inches of distance between them and began fumbling with his own robes.

At the sight of his cock, Jasmine bit her bottom lip. Tentatively, she reached out and wrapped her hand around it. Her fingers couldn't fully close around it, but she stroked it slowly, eyes searching his face for confirmation.

He groaned softly, enough to encourage her to continue. It was a minor moment for Jafar, but clearly new territory for her. The sight of the princess, corrupting before him, did more for him than her touch.

Her thumb ran across his head, smearing the droplets of pre-cum. She let out a soft laugh, surprised with her boldness.

But this wasn't enough for Jafar – not when the Princess was half-naked, wet, and prone before him. He grasped the base of his shaft and placed his other hand on her ass. At her concerned expression, he promised, "I will not penetrate you without permission."

She swallowed, unsure if she could trust him. Smart girl. What reason did she have to believe the man who reeked of deceit?

Taking her silence for consent, he pressed his head against her pussy until her lips parted. It wasn't enough for him to plunge inside her and, quite frankly, he preferred women who begged. It was just enough for him to slide his cock up until it met her clit.

The sound she made was somewhere between shock and ecstasy. With one of her arms around his shoulders, she arched her back and began massaging her breast through her top.

Jafar continued rubbing his head along her clit as she started to moan his name. He kept his gaze down, alternating between watching her free her breast from her top and the intoxicating sight of his cock rubbing along her soaking slit. But when she came, his lifted his gaze to watch her eyebrows knit together, her bottom jaw jut out slightly, and her eyes desperately locked onto his.

He kissed her, allowing his lips to linger against hers. After that gentle moment, he released his cock, grabbed her ass with both hands, and pressed his hips against hers. His entire shaft ran along her slit now. His tongue entered her mouth and while they parried briefly, she soon began sucking on it and moaning.

Her body rocked against his, hungrily rubbing her pussy along his length. Her movements became more desperate and she stopped massaging her breast to wrap both arms around his shoulders for stabilization.

Jafar felt her scream into his mouth as she came. Afterwards, she broke their kiss and met his gaze with insatiable eyes. "Jafar, please."

"Yes, Jasmine?" Her name never felt more pleasant leaving his mouth, nor did his feel so hypnotizing leaving hers. If she wanted more, she would have to beg.

"Please."

"How may I serve you, Princess?"

She fumbled over the words, wriggling along him to no avail. At barely a whisper, she finally caved, "Take me."

He should have thought it through, acknowledged that the two of them were poisoned by pheromones. Consequences, however, were the furthest concept from his mind. "As you wish, Jasmine."

Sticky fluids coated his fist as he grabbed the base of his cock yet again. Placing reaffirming kisses and light bites along her neck, he lined up his head to her dripping opening. He pushed forward slightly. Even with well-serviced women, Jafar often felt resistance. Jasmine was anything but well-serviced and, wet as she was, her body tightened against him.

She stifled a cry so Jafar cupped the side of her face with his other hand. Their eyes met again, hers wide and full of a combination of anticipation and fear. His must have been reassuring because she relaxed and ran the tip of her tongue along her lips.

He pushed again, slowly and consistently. She felt better than he could have imagined, soft, hot, wet, and addictive. Only his head had sank within her folds when he felt her entire body stiffen, in pain and overwhelmed. He stopped moving forward and stroked her cheek, lightly brushing sweaty strands of hair. Releasing the base of his cock, he used the pad of his finger to draw small circles upon her clit.

Her breaths were uneven, but she moaned and moved her hips against him. Her walls loosened and he slid in further. All thoughts left his mind as she slowly enveloped him. Their gaze was still locked, her with glassy eyes and him with the blurred vision of a drunk.

He grunted softly when his full length was finally within her. For the first time in decades, Jafar wondered how long he'd be able to last. Watching her expression alter from lust to anticipation – from fear to what almost looked like trust – tightened his throat as he steadily thrust in and out of her.

"Jafar?" Her fingers clasped behind his neck, and although she winced sporadically, she began moving herself up and down him.

"Princess?"

"Jasmine." She flinched, but shifted her hips until she could sink deeper onto him. "I want to hear my name."

He nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling her perfume, hair oils, and sweat. High from her intoxicating scent, he murmured her name over and over. His hands moved to her waist, fingers driving into her flesh. As her body weakened around him, he fucked her harder. He couldn't tell if she cried out louder when he pulled nearly his entire length out, or when he plunged it back in. He didn't care.

Her cries grew louder, sometimes screams, sometimes his name. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, proof of exquisite pain. Every fiber of her being was lost, except for the quivering muscles at her core.

They were both on the edge of ecstasy and the world could have shattered around them without either noticing.

Jafar released into her with a deep throated groan. Clearing his throat, he straightened and looked down at her, into those no longer innocent, but still wide, mahogany eyes. Panting, he loosened what he now realized was an iron grip on her ass. He moved his hands to the small of her back and was surprised to realize that they were trembling.

There was a timid knock. Jasmine froze, panicked. Jafar clamped a hand over her mouth and glared at the door. He barked out, in a growling rage, "What?"

"Jafar, Prince Achmed is arriving at the palace gates." Razoul's voice was uncertain, taken aback by his commander's unprecedented tone.

Jafar swore quietly. Of course the very person who brought Jasmine to his study would drive her out. "Escort him to the throne room. I will collect the princess."

"You… don't want to greet him yourself?"

"I advise you against questioning my orders, Razoul." Jafar's voice returned to its silky yet threatening tone. "Disobedience is a punishable offense."

Apologizing profusely, Razoul's voice disappeared down the hall.

Jafar sighed in relief and looked back at Jasmine.

She was shaking, on the verge of hyperventilation. Tears spilled over her eyelashes and onto his hand. Most unusual, however, was how her eyes searched him for an answer, for salvation.

Her distress sent the blood back to his brain, but although he softened inside her, her tightened walls locked him in place. He shushed her softly and brought his forehead to hers. When her breathing became more regular, he moved his hand from her mouth and wrapped it around her waist.

"He could have come in." Jasmine still shook. "What if he heard us? Allah, he's the Captain of the Guard; he could have me killed. Jafar, what have we done?"

"Jasmine," he interrupted her firmly, stopping her before she spiraled. "Razoul would be foolish to accuse you of improper conduct, and if he did, your doting father would have him executed – or at least removed from his employment."

She nodded, but looked unconvinced.

It wasn't until he brushed his thumbs beneath her eyes to wipe away her tears that Jafar realized he'd done it. He pulled himself from within her, an action that was almost physically painful. Opening a drawer in his desk, he removed two small scarves, a satin material that he used to cover his face when the desert winds blew too high. One he tossed to Jasmine, who looked at it in confusion until he used his to wipe off his now flaccid member. She blushed slightly, but used hers to clean herself as well.

"I must ask, Jasmine," Jafar said, breaking the silence as he fastened his robe, "did you come here with the intention of seducing me?"

"Did you mean what you wrote?" Jasmine fixed her top and stepped into her harem pants.

"The princes often need me to exaggerate their qualities and conceal their flaws."

"About me." She stepped towards him and placed her hands on his chest. Her shaking was subsiding, but her need for reassurance was palpable. Enamoring. "Do you mean the compliments about me?"

"Most certainly." He held her against him one last time. "The insults, as well."

Jasmine he lifted herself onto her toes to kiss him lightly and tease, with her lips just against his. "You're so kind and gentle."

Savoring the last few private moments they would have, he said, "I assure you, Jasmine; if we find ourselves in this situation again, I won't be."

xxxxxxxxx

Should I leave this as a 1 shot, or continue with the plot I'm considering? If nothing else, we should probably see Jasmine's perspective...


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I've heard your wonderful encouragement, my lovely reviewers. The story goes on! Of course, it wouldn't be any fun if things went smoothly for our new lovers, now would it? This chapter… creates some conflict. But don't worry; everything will be fine.

 _Silver Orbed Lioness_ : Iago is pretty difficult to write, so I don't think I'm going to include him in this story.

 _Frieza82_ : Merci beaucoup! My French is rusty, so I used Google Translate for your review and you're so sweet!

 _Oswin_ : I agree with the pairing and I'm glad you like how I'm writing Jafar! I'm also a fan of the Arabian Nights version. :)

 _Guest (1)_ : Thank you! There has to be someone to smooth over things with Jasmine's scorned suitors, right? ;)

 _Guest (2)_ : I'm so obsessed with them as a pairing. But I can't make it too easy for them to wind up together; they are both stubborn.

 _Camaim_ : Thank you so much! I hope you like this chapter, too.

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The soreness between Jasmine's legs took longer than she expected to subside. Once it did, her biggest struggle was remembering how often she and Jafar interacted. Before their intense encounter, did they even speak on a daily basis? When they were called to the throne room by her father, did they acknowledge each other or did she pointedly ignore him? Pretending that nothing had happened made her head spin more than it did when she first came onto Jafar's hand. Or when he pushed his robes aside to expose his hard, thick cock.

She blinked quickly. That was not something that she needed to think about.

Wishing she had a distraction from her active imagination, she sighed and gazed across the courtyard. It was peaceful here, quiet except for songbirds' melodies and water trickling from the fountain. No one was around, aside from Rajah sleeping beneath the shade of a tree.

Part of her recognized that she was being melodramatic, sprawled on the ground near the fountain, head resting against her arm on its ledge, fingers lazily dipping into the cool water. She didn't even find humor in the fact that a few feet away Prince Abdul slipped and Rajah tore a swatch of fabric from Prince Achmed's robes. The ridiculous truth was, she couldn't pull herself from this mood.

Footsteps approached and a tall shadow blocked the sun. Her heart leapt and she straightened, fighting to maintain her composure. "Jafar."

"Princess." He bowed, and then sat on the fountain ledge near her. "It has been two days since you rejected Prince Achmed's advances."

She stared at him blankly. Prince Achmed felt like a distant memory. She remembered two days ago for completely different reasons. Now, with Jafar within inches of her, that really was all she could think about. She wondered if she could raise her hand from the water and brush it against his thigh. It worked once before, better than she could have imagined. If only she could take her eyes off of him and make sure the courtyard was still empty.

"Jasmine."

So they were alone. She imagined climbing onto his lap and straddling him, throwing his turban to the ground and twisting her fingers into his curls as they kissed. He would grab her by the hips, digging his long fingers into her sides. He would smell of cloves and cardamom, the tantalizing scent that lingered on her for hours after their tryst.

"Did you hear me?"

"What?" Jasmine shook herself from her daydream. "No, I… I wasn't listening."

"Your birthday is tomorrow." At her blank expression, he clarified, "Your 18th birthday. Your father is contemplating choosing a husband for you himself."

She jolted, completely ignoring protocol to sit by his side and grab his arm. "I rejected every suitor. He can't do that."

For a moment, she thought that she saw a soft look in his eyes, the one he had when he stopped her from falling into hysteria. Then he turned his head and she could only see his profile. "I intend to speak with him this afternoon. He values my judgement. The suitors you entertained were neither appropriate for ruling Agrabah, nor worthy of you."

"Let me talk to him. He can't force me to marry! I am _not_ a prize to be won."

"Your father is aware of your feelings on this matter. I doubt that reiterating your protests will work to your advantage."

"So I can't even speak for myself?" she hissed before her voice took a broken turn. "Look at me."

He turned his head slowly, languidly, as if looking upon her was no different from paying attention to one of the servants.

Her daydreams crumbled, taking with them any hope she had of playing the elusive seductress. She never had been one. No, she was a sheltered little girl who was far out of her element. "I don't know how to act around you anymore."

"Need I remind you of both your role and my own? I am the Royal Vizier, and you the Princess of Agrabah. Act as such."

Those terse words felt like a physical hit. Oxygen fled from her lungs as she dropped his arm and stared at her feet. Tears blurred her vision, but she desperately fought to keep them at bay.

It was a battle that she lost the second Jafar delivered the disdainful, killing blow: "Men cross the desert to seek your hand, yet you gave yourself to one who didn't even cross the room."

Without another word, he stood and left.

Jasmine collapsed on the fountain ledge, unable to contain her sobs. Certainly Jafar heard her, but she couldn't care and, clearly, he didn't either. Her wails awoke Rajah who trotted to her side, always her faithful confidant. Jasmine threw herself upon him, bawling into his fur.

The Sultan did try to talk to her. He reminded her of her duties as Princess, his concerns as an aging father, and the future of Agrabah. All his rambling did was confirm one thing: kind-hearted as he was, the law was the law. He would confer with Jafar and, in the morning, inform her of his decision.

Night blackened the sky. Jasmine had only one option.

Covered in simple clothes, a brown dress of rough material and a matching hijab, Jasmine crouched beside her beloved tiger. "I'm sorry, Rajah. But I can't stay here and have my life lived for me. I'll miss you."

She gave her loyal companion one last hug and the loving tiger, whining pitifully, boosted her over the palace walls. And so Princess Jasmine spent the beginning of her 18th birthday by venturing outside the palace walls for the first time.

The marketplace came to life at dawn, rising with the sun out of its silent stupor. People moved as a pack, bumping elbows as they pushed from cart to cart. The aroma of fresh meats mingled with mint, aniseed, and coriander. Men called out greetings to each other, women haggled over prices, and children ran between strangers' legs, oblivious to their surroundings. Vendors shouted over the cacophony. The combined noise pollution silenced Jasmine's racing thoughts.

It was exhilarating to forget about the palace, her dismal future, and the man she saw even when she closed her eyes.

Within hours of her arrival, she learned that she couldn't simply take food from the stands. A young child, one whose parents were nowhere to be seen, tried that. All Jasmine saw before the crowd broke her line of sight was a saber raise into the air. The screams, however, reached her just fine.

Without money, she was forced to haggle with her jewelry: thin, golden bracelets and anklets, and heavy earrings. Having little concept of their value, she never realized she was being swindled.

For three days, Jasmine convinced herself that she could make a life here. On the fourth day, worry set in. More and more guards patrolled the marketplace. She found herself ducking behind buildings almost constantly to avoid being seen. Even with her hijab tight around her hair, she felt exposed. Often, she put a hand to her cheek, where Jafar once had, and looked down to avoid detection. This adventure of hers was no longer fun, or going according to plan.

What had she expected? To vanish without her father sending the entire palace guard on a rescue mission? To start a new life right outside the palace gates?

She could return home. Her father would be too overjoyed to ask too many questions. Jafar, on the other hand… Her gut twisted. Being interrogated by him should have been her biggest fear, but now she worried that he'd simply act like she didn't exist. Lost in her swirling thoughts, she didn't see the street rat approach until he spoke.

"Is this your first time in the marketplace?"

Jasmine turned quickly and spotted a young man around her age with a monkey perched on his shoulder. She had seen that monkey before, watching her from various overhangs and scurrying off when she caught its eye. They were following her. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do kinda stand out." He gave her a cheeky grin and she could have sworn that the monkey rolled its eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she thought that he recognized her. That was impossible. It wasn't recognition in his eyes, but faintly concealed interest. How disappointing to realize that commoners, street rats, and princes all had one thing in common. Tired, defeated, she looked to the sky and tucked stray hairs beneath her hijab.

Clouds were rolling in. She blinked, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her. Exhausted as she was, this wasn't a hallucination. Trying to process what this meant, she barely heard the street rat when he said, "I'm Aladdin."

The lie came to her easily. "Jamila."

Before either could say anything else, lightning crackled overhead. They both jumped, fully aware of how fast and deadly desert rainstorms were.

"We need to get off the streets." Aladdin grabbed his monkey from his shoulder and tucked him under his vest. The terrified creature clung to its master like a small child, tail curled along his body and grasping him with hands and feet.

"I just got into the city." It wasn't quite a lie, but she was honest when she said, "I have nowhere to go."

Aladdin looked at the monkey who shook his head vehemently and screeched. Their silent argument was brief, cut short as they glanced at the quickly darkening sky. "Come with Abu and me."

Thunder crashed. Jasmine was hesitant, but there was no time. She nodded.

They ran through the streets, skirting between carts and narrowly avoiding being trampled by panicked mobs that ducked into the nearest building. When the going became too hectic, Aladdin grabbed her hand and held it tightly, keeping them from getting separated. Fat raindrops began tumbling from the sky. The once trampled flat sand of the marketplace turned to silt.

Just when panic began to bring a metallic taste to Jasmine's mouth, Aladdin pulled her into an abandoned building. They climbed up half-broken stairs to the roof. The sky had turned the color of flint and each bolt of lightning threatened to set it ablaze.

"We have to jump!"

"What?!"

Aladdin pointed to a balcony, slightly lower than the roof they were currently on. Abu had already climbed onto his back, squeaking as the rain pummeled his tiny body. "Do you trust me?"

She didn't, but even she knew that staying outside was far worse than risking the leap. "Yes."

From the middle of the roof, Aladdin took her hand once again and started to run. She ran alongside him, praying that Allah would protect her. Adrenaline burst through her, overriding her fear instinct as she heard Aladdin shout, "Jump!"

She did.

The landing was far less painful than anticipated, softened by her thick, unflattering dress. Aladdin pulled her to her feet and dragged her inside. Abu chittered incessantly. It almost looked like he was chastising Aladdin as he shook what water he could from his fur.

Hysterical laughter exploded from Jasmine. She sank to her knees, cackling like someone who had lost their mind. The complete insanity of the past week overwhelmed her. If she had stayed in the palace, she would probably be in a hot bath with one of her servant girls washing her hair. She would watch the storm from the safety of her room, eating dates while complaining about nothing.

Instead, here she was, completely detached from every comfort she had known, relying on the mercy of a stranger. So much for her grandiose ideas of independence outside the palace walls.

Her breakdown, although short lived, drained her. Limbs numb, senses dulled, and drenched from rainwater, she half-noticed when Aladdin draped a blanket over her shoulder. She let him lead her to the broken windowsill where he grasped the drape with one hand. He smiled awkwardly.

"It's not much," he admitted before pulling back the tattered curtain to reveal a view of the palace in all its splendor, "but it's got a great view."

There it was, her home, backlit with lightning. It looked more ominous and marvelous than anything that could have been described by Scheherazade. To her, it was both foreboding and welcoming. Or maybe that was just one of its inhabitants.

"I wonder what it would be like to live there," Aladdin's voice broke through her self-pity. He ripped a slice of pita in half and handed her one side, "to have servants and valets."

"Oh sure." Jasmine ripped off a bite-sized piece and chewed it slowly. The bread was fresh, clearly baked that day, but to her tasted like ash. "People who tell you where to go and how to dress."

"It's better than here. Always scraping for food and ducking the guards." Aladdin continued to ramble on, unaware that she had long stopped listening.

Jasmine's eyes suddenly felt heavy. She sat on a rug near the windowsill, using her the crook of her elbow as a pillow, pita forgotten in hand. Between the sound of the street rat's voice and the abating rain, she began nodding off.

The next day, the fifth day, Aladdin offered to go by himself to find some food. Jasmine didn't argue. From the vantage point of his hideout, she could see that guards absolutely swarmed the marketplace. He wasn't gone long, returning with a few apples and chatting with Abu. The monkey ran into the rafters to eat his fruit in peace.

"I know a runaway when I see one," Aladdin said, breaking the silence. He rolled an apple down his shoulder, and bounced it from his elbow. "And girls only run from two types of people."

"Oh?" Jasmine caught it easily and flicked dust from its red skin.

He bit into his and nodded. "Fathers and husbands."

Jasmine laughed. She never would have expected commoners and princesses to have so much in common.

"So? Which is it?"

She ate her apple quietly, buying herself time to respond. Finally, she said, "My father is forcing me to get married."

"That's … that's awful."

She stared at him, not expecting his genuine response. He barely even knew her, yet he offered her more compassion and empathy than the man who she gave her virginity to. She grimaced and walked to the window, glaring at the palace as she tossed the apple core.

"Are you ok?" Aladdin moved to her side and tentatively put an arm around her shoulders.

His simple gesture stunned her. Not even thinking it through – that was the theme of the week, wasn't it? – she faced him and stroked his cheek. He looked down at her tenderly, so differently from Jafar.

He placed his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head back for a kiss. She didn't fight it. His lips were tentative and soft, pressing against hers in gentle, probing kisses. They were sweet, not what Jasmine was used to.

She was desperate for touch. Arching her back into him, she deepened the kiss. Her nails scraped lightly along his cheek and she moaned softly, searching for a reaction from him.

He fumbled with her hijab for a moment before pulling it from her head and freeing her thick, long hair. His fingers carefully moved through it, avoiding the snarls and tangles. Knots were something he seemed used to, unlike pampered palace dwellers. Adoration filled his eyes.

Despite her disheveled state, she felt like the most beautiful woman in all the desert kingdoms. She kissed Aladdin with renewed vigor. Her tongue entered his mouth, tasting pita and apples. Pushing the vest from his body, her hands across his pecs and biceps. His muscles were hard and defined, proof that only the strong survived on the streets.

This – a way to forget about the vizier – this was what she needed.

Determined now, Jasmine pulled the dress over her head. Sunlight glistened off of her exposed curves and highlighted his muscles. Her hands ran up and down him, lingering on his abs, wrapping around his arms. She threw her hair over a shoulder and pulled him towards her.

His arousal hardened between them. One hand crept up her leg and the other settled between her shoulder blades to brace her as they stood.

Heat burned between her thighs as he traced his calloused fingers towards her tingling labia. She bit her lip and moaned as he reached his goal. But when his fingers slipped inside her, Jasmine winced. They scraped along her walls and, no matter how she shifted her hips, the angle was never quite right.

"Aladdin." The name was strange, but exciting leaving her lips. She moved her hips, trying to work with fingers that were too stiff. Just as she began to feel the stirrings of pleasure, Aladdin pulled his fingers from her, and guided her hand under his pants to his waiting cock.

It was smaller than she expected. How naïve of her to think that all men were the same. She wrapped her hand around it, easily encircling it, and began stroking up and down. It wasn't nearly as thick as Jafar's, nor as long, and when Aladdin returned his fingers inside her, their inability to curl into her was just another thing that reminded her of him.

"Jamila," Aladdin moaned as she rubbed his cock.

Jasmine started, but quickly remembered that Jamila was the name she gave him. She relaxed and shifted her hips again, angling them differently against his prodding fingers.

Aladdin leaned down to kiss her, and she eagerly met his lips. He slipped out of his pants and moved her so that she had to look out the window. He bent her over and, with the palace in full view, thrust into her.

Jasmine grunted. Aladdin was smaller than Jafar, but she had been far more aroused when he entered her. This felt uncomfortable for her, but Aladdin's groans meant it wasn't for him. She looked down at her hands, gripping the windowsill, dirty from days and nights on the streets. A few of her nails were jagged and broken, something she had never experienced before. They were unsightly, but better than looking forward, staring at the palace that she had just escaped.

Aladdin continued to thrust into her, murmuring a name that wasn't hers. His rhythm was steady, pleasurable. He reached forward and took her breasts into his hands. She moaned softly, closing her eyes and focusing on the increasingly enjoyable feeling of him inside her.

Jasmine stopped trying to push Jafar from her mind. She succumbed to reminiscing about how his hands felt gripping her, confident and possessive, how heavy his cock felt inside her, and how his dark eyes burned into her soul. Before she could call out the wrong name, she covered her mouth with her hand. She remembered how Jafar growled her name, how she begged for more, the feeling of his breath on her neck. For a moment, she convinced herself that she was back on his desk and her body began to shake.

Just as she came, there was a crash in the building.

The broke apart. Jasmine jerked forward and Aladdin back. She felt a warm splash on her back and realized Aladdin had finished as well. For a horrible, frozen moment, Jasmine stared at the intruder: Razoul.

"Princess?" Razoul could scarcely say her title and his eyes darted between her and Aladdin.

"Princess?!" Aladdin paled.

Jasmine reached for her dress and clutched it to her naked body. Her stomach turned; she was unable to speak.

"Princess, what did he do to you?" Razoul slowly began unsheathing his saber.

"Nothing! He…" Horrified, she mouthed one word to Aladdin: "Run."

Razoul lunged.

Aladdin was faster. He grabbed his clothing in one hand, Abu leapt onto his shoulder, and they jumped from the building. Razoul could have chased the culprit, but his duty was first to protecting Jasmine.

"I will escort you to the palace," he said, looking at anything but her as she pulled the dress over her head. "Your father will be relieved that we found you. My men will capture the street rat and he will pay for assaulting you."

"He didn't—" Jasmine quickly cut herself off and followed Razoul out of the building. She couldn't believe that the two times that she had found herself in a compromising position, he came barging in. Yet her bigger concern awaited her in the palace. Her father might be happy to see her, but Jafar?

She didn't know if she was more excited or terrified to see him again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Now that I've mortified (and scared away) my readers, here's a chapter you'll enjoy. What? You didn't expect me to be sadistic?

 _Freiza82_ : Don't worry, I wouldn't make Jasmine settle for Aladdin. #gross I do like using occasional dialogue from the movie though. It's interesting to me how words can mean such different things based on context, mood, etc.

 _Guest_ : I needed to break Jasmine a bit. She'll be more fun to write about going forward. And, who knows? Maybe there will be even more consequences to her actions…

xxxxxxxxxx

Spine straight, Jasmine kept her eyes forward, and exuded the poise required of the Princess of Agrabah. Even with her tattered clothing, matted hair, and beleaguered expression, she would not cower. Princesses in other kingdoms might've faltered or shown remorse for their poorly planned antics.

Princesses in other kingdoms, however, hadn't survived days on the street and desert thunderstorms.

Her father would be waiting for her in the throne room. Jasmine knew that he'd be overjoyed to see her and soon this entire misadventure would be long behind her. Her life would return to its stable – albeit boring – routine. Eventually she'd take a husband and years from now would reminisce about the week when she made every wrong decision. All she had to do was ignore how loudly her footsteps echoed through the palace halls, how many eyes fixed upon her, and how many whispers echoed behind her back.

But it wasn't her father waiting for her in the throne room; it was Jafar. Her breath caught as she watched him pace back and forth with Rajah at his side, something Jasmine never expected to see. Ever since the Sultan gifted her with the tiger cub years ago, Jafar maintained a healthy distance from the beast. In turn, Rajah left the vizier in peace. But in this moment, they moved as one. They even froze simultaneously when she stepped into the room.

Her legs moved of their own accord. She felt weightless, gliding across the ground. Jafar strode towards her as well, cloak billowing behind him. He moved like desert sand in a windstorm, swift and entrancing. Inches from each other, they came to a dead stop. Their bodies swayed, as if a magnet pulled at each of their cores.

"Princess." He reached forward and brushed snarled hair from her face. Relief emanated from him, so tangible that Jasmine felt lightheaded. She smiled, the last week melting away and taking with it the hunger pangs in her stomach and the ache in her heart.

Unfortunately, the moment was short lived.

"It pains me to see you reduced to this, Jasmine." Jafar pulled back and wiped his hand against his robes. He snapped his fingers and a servant girl appeared at Jasmine's side. "Have her made presentable for the Sultan. Her father would surely perish if he saw his only daughter in such a state."

Jasmine stuttered, blinking away the romantic delusion infecting her. "Wha- What?"

"Your condition is far too distressing for him to bear. I will assure him that you returned safely."

Weeks ago, Jasmine would've thrown a tantrum, using her rank as princess to force an apology from Jafar. That was a lifetime ago, before she had run away, lived as a commoner, and slept with an urchin. She instead clenched her fists, broken nails biting into her palms. "Know your place, Vizier."

Jasmine turned heel. With a dismissing wave of her hand, the servant stepped back, bowing her head. Rajah trotted after her, nuzzling his head against her hip and purring. He was all the reassurance that she needed. Even though frustration fogged her ears, she overheard Jafar turn to Razoul and say, "I would speak to you about the circumstances in which you found the princess."

Wonderful.

At least it would take a while for the situation to get worse. A hot bath was already awaiting Jasmine in her chambers. She stripped the filthy clothes from her body and sank into it, marveling in how the hot water heated her skin and soothed her muscles. Usually, one of her servants would massage shampoos and oils into her hair while another exfoliated her skin and a third tended to her nails.

Today, she relished the autonomy. And the silence.

Water lapped at her chin as she sank into the tub. It filled her nostrils, plugged her ears. She laid beneath its surface until her lungs screamed. If only this sensory deprivation could last forever.

Gasping for breath, she bolted upright. Her hair clung to her face, her neck, and her shoulders. Coughing, she looked at her bathwater, now murky from dislodged sand and sweat. Wrinkling her nose, she caved and admitted to herself an uncomfortable truth: it might have been impertinent of her to dismiss her servants so quickly.

But, if Jasmine was anything, she was stubborn. Dozens of crystalline vials were within her grasp, each scented with different flowers and herbs. She opened a few, settling for one that was a deep crimson and smelled of hibiscus. Instead of carefully measuring it into her hand, she dumped the contents onto her head and began scrubbing it through her hair. Her broken nails ripped, but the pain was exhilarating, validating.

Let each of her nails tear from their beds. Her memories would fade, but the scars would forever remind her of when she bucked tradition. She dipped her head beneath the water and tousled her hair as the shampoo pulled away grit and dirt.

Before she could reach for oils, hydration that her dried locks desperately needed, she heard the door fling open and crash into the wall. Rajah lifted his head, half-awaking from his nap. He stretched luxuriously, yawning to expose his dagger-length fangs as Jafar entered.

The vizier looked like the thunderclouds from the night before: dark, deadly, with barely contained rage. Jasmine settled deeper into the tub, unaware of her actions until he said, "Your attempts at modesty are hardly necessary. Soon there will be more people who have seen you disrobed than not."

Jasmine's lips twitched from side to side. "Get out."

"I require your version of events." He approached her slowly, hands clasped behind his back. "Razoul's tale was most salacious."

"Salacious?" She hated how her gaze gravitated towards him, how her back arched despite her arms folding across her chest. "That's an exaggeration."

"You deny the accusations?" Jafar's steps were measured, which was somehow more unsettling than if he would've charged her.

"You haven't accused me of anything."

"Allow me to clarify." He spoke slowly, his tone a low growl and words clipped. It was strangely reminiscent of Rajah when he stalked the songbirds. Her lovely beast who now slept in the corner, uninterested in the humans' argument. "You fornicated with a street rat. Razoul witnessed him finish on your back."

Bile stung Jasmine's throat. Instinctively, she picked up the now empty crystal bottle and flung it towards Jafar. He easily side stepped. The next thing she knew, he had grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her upright.

Jasmine shrieked as her feet slipped, but his grasp kept her from falling. She struggled nonetheless, futile as it was. Her shoulder twisted in its socket and she winced as his fingers dug into her flesh. "Let go of me!"

He simply narrowed his eyes and jerked her forward. She yelped when her shins knocked into the side of the tub. Unbidden tears stung her eyes. Her lips curled into a snarl and she wriggled again, fighting to break his hold on her.

In response, he turned her around and locked her arm behind her back. His other arm wrapped across her chest, pinning him against him. "Tell me what happened so that I am prepared to counter any information that may leak from Razoul or the urchin himself."

Jasmine's mouth felt like sandpaper. She needed him to unhand her, now while she still had her wits about her. If she didn't keep the story short, she would give out far too many details, like how she imagined that it was Jafar behind her. Heat flooded her cheeks as she found herself wiggling again, trying to keep her hips away from his. "I met him in the marketplace, just before the storm."

"Were you willing?"

Jasmine nodded. A wave of relief overcame her as Jafar let her go. Carefully counting the seconds between each breath, she faced him and looked up. His expression was unmistakable, the look he gave prisoners when he decided whether a lawbreaker should be forgiven, jailed… or put to death.

He took her jaw in his hand and pulled her forward, locking her in an inescapable stare. "Did you achieve orgasm?"

There was a ringing in her ears, her entire body screaming at her to yell, to hit him, to do anything. She could only freeze. Apparently, that was answer enough.

His nostrils flared. Curling his lip, his breathing became heavy, rapid. For a second, a small voice in Jasmine's head wanted to call out his temperament change. The accusatory words were on the tip of her tongue, a rant about his selfishness. But words weren't enough; they felt subpar.

Something in Jasmine snapped. She had not spent five nights and nearly five days in the marketplace to crumble as soon as she stepped back into the palace. She did not run away from her life to find independence only to be at the mercy of the man who took her purity and broke her heart.

She slapped him. Hard.

Jafar recoiled and dropped her face.

"This is your fault!" Vibrations stung her palm. The pain was grounding and fueled her rage. It brought back the betrayal that chased her from the palace, and allowed another man inside her. Jasmine pushed Jafar roughly, both hands on his chest. She felt a week's worth of anger and betrayal boil to the surface and she pushed him again, although this time he braced himself and didn't stumble back. "I hate you!"

Jafar slowly raised his thumb to his lip and pressed lightly. He pulled it away to reveal a drop of blood. Was it wrong that this minor injury made Jasmine feel impossibly vindicated?

Truth be told, she didn't know if she jumped into his arms, or if he grabbed her. The next thing she knew, she was off of the ground with her legs around his waist. His hands were upon her back, clutching her to his body. Their kissing was fierce and passionate, furious and hungry. Jasmine's head spun, and whatever part of her recognized that this was a mistake quickly fell silent.

She arched her body into him, pressing her chest against his. Both her hands were on the side of his face, fingers scraping against his beard. She clung to him, lightheaded as her body begged for air. The last thing she wanted was to end this kiss, even as the metallic tang of blood crept onto her tongue. Her teeth bit into his bottom lip and, unless she was mistaken, his mouth twitched in amusement.

One of his arms tightened around her waist and the other traced along her inner thigh. She squirmed in anticipation, breaking their kiss as his fingertips brushed against her. She needed him to touch her, to feel how wet she was, to end the ache that this teasing built.

He must have felt similarly, for he plunged his fingers within her the second he found her core. His fingers curled, instantly finding the spot against her wall that made her mind go blank.

She threw her head back, mouth open in wordless pleasure. Her hips bucked against him and the sound that eventually left her was more of a purr than anything human. Clinging to the last shred of her sanity, she rolled her head down. Their eyes locked, his as heavy-lidded as hers. Between his rhythmic ministrations and the gravitational pull of his stare, she was lost. She came heavily, choking for air.

He set her down slowly, and she was tantalizingly aware of his arousal as she slid her body against his. The second her feet touched the ground, their mutual rage returned. He flung his cape off, his turban as well. She began pulling at his robe, trying to tear it from him, desperate to see what he looked like underneath.

But he grasped the nape of her hair and used his body size to force her backwards. In all honesty, Jasmine didn't want to fight back. She felt the cool marble of one of her vanities brush against her ass. Before she could shift her weight onto it, Jafar spun her around and pushed his frame against her.

Jasmine gasped as her breasts met the surface. Words died in her throat as she looked up, catching his reflection. His expression was animalistic, a look that made her weak. She couldn't stop herself from grinding her hips against him, against his cock. She may have imagined it, dreamed about it, while with Aladdin, but it was very different to feel it again now. Even with his robes still between them.

His lips were at the junction of her neck and ear, a tender contrast to how he tugged her hair and growled, "I believe this is your preferred position."

She felt cloth move behind her as he unfastened his robe and freed his cock. She looked over her shoulder, trying to get a look at him, but he only pulled her hair again, making her cry out. It took all of her willpower to not press herself against him, to welcome him inside her, as she felt his head rub against her wet opening.

So she watched his reflection again, biting her lip to fight back her moans. Leaning forward slightly, he pressed the side of her face against the marble. The only way she truly could move now was backwards, onto him. But even when she tried, he was acutely aware of the space between them, and just how far away he could stand while still keeping her pinned.

She wriggled again. It was a half-hearted attempt at escape. Even if his grasp upon her hadn't been so strong, so commanding, she wasn't going anywhere. Jasmine could have – should have – demanded that he unhand her. Instead, she could only squirm and hiss, "I hate you!"

"You have established that, Jasmine."

Before she could give a rebuttal, whatever that would've been, Jafar pushed forward just enough to spread apart her lips and press his head inside her. She didn't know what was more torturous: the pain from him beginning to enter her, or the hollowness she felt from him not sliding in deeper. At least now she could move her hips along him. She let out whimpered moans, gyrating against his head. She was so wet, and so little of him was inside her, that she kept slipping off him. With increasing frustration, she caved, "You proved your point."

"What point would that be?"

"Allah have mercy." She wanted to kill him, but not nearly as badly as she wanted to feel his length within her, to feel full and on the edge of breaking. Breathing heavily, from a combination of frustration, impatience, and desire, she said, "Jafar, please. Fuck me."

The victorious sound he growled in her ear was enough to make her legs twitch. He certainly hadn't been lying when he promised that he wouldn't be gentle a second time. With a single thrust, he entered her, plunging his cock deep inside her. She shrieked and shifted her weight onto her toes, swaying her hips to ease through the pain. He was everywhere at once, and her core tightened around him, reveling in the painful pressure of his head meeting her cervix. The pain only made the pleasure sweeter.

Jafar dropped her hair and held her by the hips. One of her arms stayed on her vanity, handprint pressing against the glass to brace herself against his thrusts. Her other hand went below her waist, fingers tracing circles over her clit. Her knees buckled in orgasm. She hardly recognized herself in the mirror. This young woman, face flushed, hair tossed unceremoniously to the side, couldn't possibly be her.

Then Jafar took her by the hair again and pulled her head back. "Let me hear my name leaving your lips."

She had long since lost awareness of what she was saying. It was nearly impossible to get the syllables out, but Jasmine obliged, first in a whisper, then louder as he fucked her faster. His mouth was on her neck, biting her lightly. By the time she was on the brink, she wasn't screaming his name, but a single command, "Harder!"

He came inside her and her body quivered and absorbed him. They straightened somewhat, although Jasmine was still pressed forward and Jafar still behind her, still inside her. He pressed his forehead between her shoulder blades, panting as he caught his breath. Jasmine slid her hands down her body until they met his. She entwined her fingers with his, squeezing them tightly.

She winced as he pulled out. Feeling empty, a wave of emotions she wasn't prepared for overtook her. She turned around and, lightheaded as she was, leaned against him. His large presence was no longer intimidating, but comforting. Even on her toes, the top of her head only brushed beneath his chin.

He traced the backs of his fingers along her jaw, where he had previously manhandled her, then kissed her forehead. "I am exceedingly sorry, Princess."

She laid a hand on his cheek, where she had slapped him, and turned her face so that their lips met. The kiss was soft, although there was still the tang of blood. She let out a breath of a laugh and pulled back, wiping the corner of his mouth with the pad of her thumb.

Now was the opportune moment for her to admit that she had thought of him each day, that she saw him even when she closed her eyes. If there ever was a time to confess that her entire being lit up when she saw him again, it was this exact second.

Instead, she painstakingly pulled away. Plucking a towel from its hanger, she kept her gaze forward, fighting to keep her eyes off him. She squeezed the towel through her hair, as if continuing her routine would negate their last actions. "This is the last time, Jafar."

He inclined his head in a bow, refastening his robe and cloak, and retying his turban. But he did look over his shoulder at her before he took his leave and she couldn't help but catch his eyes. He paused before making her yet another promise, "Your wish is my command, Princess."


End file.
